


Precious

by PalePrinceling



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Age Difference, Genderqueer Character, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Oral Sex, Other, Romance, Trans Character, Witches, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalePrinceling/pseuds/PalePrinceling
Summary: It's one thing to be dating your employee, it's quite another to actually get it on with them.





	Precious

The number of accidents liable to happen to a person in their average week can be determined by taking the number of high-chaos objects in their surroundings times the number of risk factors which occupy those same surroundings. Every cat is a high-chaos object for some percentage of the day virtually every day and some cats have two modes: chaos and naps. Cups of coffee are manageable risk factors most of the time, but a coffee milkshake in a tall milkshake glass is precarious even in the absence of feisty felines. With numerous cats around, they're what's commonly referred to as "accidents waiting to happen."

  
Cat cafe employees have accidents at a wildly disproportionate rate compared to the general population. That's just math. When you add a variable like the fact that Hayes's cappuccino milkshake was _really_ good this summer and also take into account factors like the already high rate of accidents found in certain individuals, the result is a lot of milkshakes all over one Avery Grey, cat cafe employee and giant klutz.

  
Which is why Graves arrives in his apartment just past close to find Avery on his couch in nothing but a towel. They both understand immediately that this is merely an embarrassing accident. All Cat’s Paw employees had long since taken to keeping spare clothes on hand in case a mid-shift shower and change in Graves’s apartment were necessary. Graves walking in like this is the kind of accident that could happen to anyone, not a breach of propriety. An _acceptable_ moment for a boss to see his younger employee nearly naked. It isn’t even the first time it’s happened--Finley can get really into her phone. It doesn’t have to get weird, as long as Graves looks away and Avery gets up to get dressed.

  
Graves meets Avery’s eyes. Avery doesn’t move.  


Even before they started dating, showering in Graves's private space had lit fireworks in Avery's stomach. There was an illicit thrill to being naked where  _ he  _ had been naked, to treating  _ his  _ place like  _ their  _ place. Now that Avery's actually in front of the man himself, though, it's different. It's no longer a secret game Avery plays alone; now his mismatched eyes are on em, now possibility crackles in the air. Ey is physically aware of those places on eir body that Graves is seeing for the first time, and even more aware of the parts he has yet to see at all, still safely covered by the towel--but only barely. A blush spreads over Avery's cheeks despite emself and ey carefully sets eir phone down, body language wide open, but cautious, as though trying not to startle an animal.

  
The phone explains everything. Graves knows this, knows Avery. Ey must have gotten caught up in a game or something equally silly. Graves is frankly lucky Finley didn’t catch Avery’s eye--they have certain things in common and, all told, Finley probably has better legs. 

  
But Graves isn't thinking about that now. Now, he’s noticing that Avery’s clavicles are delicate, eir calves are significantly darker than eir thighs from the summer sun, and that eir light hair is half dry. Ey’s been sitting on Graves’s couch naked for a while. Graves knows Avery wasn't waiting for him, but an accident can be an opportunity. 

  
A nervous “whoops,” is all Avery manages by way of apology as eir boss continues to stare em down. Graves wonders if Avery really meant to be so coy as to pretty much look him in the eye and utter “oopsie," but he’s definitely certain ey’s not _that_ sorry. He closes the distance between them. He’s hardly at the coffee table and Avery is already accommodating him, sitting up, swinging eir legs to make room for him on the couch. He sits and scoots right into Avery's personal space. He has Avery’s attention, eir eyes moon wide.

“Have you ever heard of parapraxis?” Graves asks.

Avery blinks, almost incredulous. “Is that a magic thing?”

Avery isn’t that hard to read. It’s obvious ey's halfway to rolling eir eyes at him. But just because Avery is the type of person to spoil a moment like this by shifting to an irrelevant topic, doesn’t mean Graves is. He presses forward, ignoring the expression on Avery's face. “Parapraxis is the general form of the Freudian Slip," he says slowly, watching Avery's eyes for comprehension. "You unconsciously forget something on purpose so you can reap the benefits of your mistake, all while maintaining the appearance of innocence. It was just an accident, after all.”  The ironic twist of his final sentence makes Avery's heart beat even faster. He's close. Too close for a boss. Not as close as he wants to be. 

  
It takes a second for Graves’s words to puncture whatever fluff is still floating through eir head, but as soon as Avery's got it, ey’s _really_ got it. Eir pupils dilate, eir mouth relaxes, no longer poised to speak, no longer waiting for a turn. Complete presence.   


Graves’s odd-colored eyes are bright and cool, his eyelids are low, and his lips curve as he looks back at Avery. _Are you with me?_ His gaze asks. 

  
Avery is right there, more than ready, and never one to wait. Ey takes him by the shirt collar and drags him in for a kiss, knowing he likes it, knowing they both like it. Ever since that first kiss, Avery has punctuated moments of intensity by taking Graves by the collar like this and Graves has always known it was in invitation, known Avery was telling him: _I’m here._ And this time, for the first time, they’re together.

  
“That’s a theory," Avery says, breaking the kiss. Graves hasn’t worked out yet how Avery can grin in a way that makes eir cheerfulness seem reckless and almost rebellious, but there’s a gleam in eir eyes and ey’s still got him by the collar. And they’ve taken it slow enough already. Graves runs his fingertips down Avery’s jaw, eir throat, the hollow of one pretty clavicle, and slides his spider hand over eir chest to palm the space between neck and shoulder, pinky barely brushing against the hem of the towel still fastened securely around Avery. Once a spooky goth prince, always a spooky goth prince. He still can’t see anything a boss absolutely shouldn’t, but he’s asking. 

  
It's time. Avery pulls the friction fastening eir towel loose without hesitating. Graves shrugs out of his unseasonable cardigan with unfair grace. Avery’s arms snake around his shoulders the instant they're available. His hand finds the back of eir neck. Graves pulls Avery’s face close to kiss and kiss and kiss. Avery pushes closer still, needy, demanding. Graves wraps an arm around eir waist, letting the towel fall where it will, when it will.

  
Graves is focused, instead, on the feeling of Avery’s body pressing so tightly to him, their skin separated only by Graves’s old cotton shirt, eir arms holding him tight, fingers running through his hair from nape to crown. They’ve never been this close before. Avery once tried to unbutton his shirt, but it was lunchtime and Graves protested. If anybody else came in, they’d know. Everybody already knew. Avery just smiled and kissed him again, leaving his clothes alone. Let Graves decide when he was ready to admit they weren’t going back. Avery could wait.

  
For his part, Graves had never imagined they _could_ go back; Avery kissing him had pretty much settled that. The other employees didn’t concern him, not really. It was only a question of if Graves would be ready to “test his mind-body divide,” (as he put it in his journal) before he had no choice but to admit to Avery that there was even anything to be worried about in that arena. He knows, has always known, that he’s probably worrying over nothing: Graves wrote off taking the precautions against inappropriate attraction to Avery that he might have with a male employee. Graves is gay. Avery isn’t a boy. No problem. By the time he realized how flawed _that_ particular piece of self-analysis had been, it was considerably too late. And now, here he is, short of breath, mouth open against his employee’s.    


But he hasn’t seen Avery naked yet.

  
He touches before he looks, his sense of touch being easier to please than his eyes. Avery's skin is smooth and retains the tightness of youth. Under the towel, ey is still warm and damp. Avery’s tongue is hot in Graves’s mouth and eir fingers have made their way under his shirt. Graves cups Avery's waist in his hands, then slides them up Avery’s chest, feeling his fingertips push over and palms compress soft, soft flesh and catch on stiff nipples. Avery makes a tiny sound at the contact. 

  
Graves has been retraining himself for years to remember that a man’s chest can feel like Avery’s does, but he also can’t forget that Avery isn’t a man. It seems like a lot to juggle for an initial sexual encounter. And then one of eir legs comes up around him and eir mouth is on his throat. Graves is practically on top of Avery and eir groin presses against his thigh, arousal immediately obvious, even though the leg of his pants. Avery is without hesitation, eir desire plain in every motion. It's Graves ey wants, above all others, Graves ey's waited for. His heart swells.

  
Graves opens his eyes and pulls back to look over Avery’s small breasts, flat stomach, and snowy pubic hair, but also over eir tanlines, cat scratches, and overgrown haircut. This is not a man’s body, not a woman’s body. This is the body of Avery Grey, who Graves has wanted above all others. Graves meets Avery's eyes. He's hard and Avery is smiling.   


To think he ever worried about this.   


Post-shower Avery tastes humid and smells like Graves’s own amber-scented soap. He never notices the aroma on himself anymore, but on Avery it makes his erection pressing against the tight fly of his skinny jeans downright uncomfortable. Once a spooky goth prince, always a spooky goth prince.

  
Avery tries to undress Graves, but only gets those dumb birds off his collar before Graves’s hot, soft mouth is on Avery’s chest, teeth grazing the tender undersides, lips rubbing softly over both sides, and tongue pressing urgently against the nipples. His mouth makes a mess of Avery and soon ey can’t keep eir hands on complicated tasks like buttons. Instead, ey clasps tightly to Graves, head thrown back, gasping aloud with every hard thrust of his tongue.

  
Graves has always had a thing for guys with sensitive nipples and Avery redefines the top of that scale. Maybe later Graves can experiment with how close to the edge he can push Avery with eir nipples alone, but their first time together isn’t the moment. Instead, he kisses eir stomach and runs his thumbs over eir sharp hip bones. His tongue is half out, uncertain but ready, before he’s even gotten a good look at what Avery’s packing. He’d probably make the same face if Avery had offered him a taste of an unusual new flavor of ice cream. The thought is so embarrassing and so darn _cute_ that Avery’s hands fly to eir face and, after all this, ey flushes again. But Avery can’t resist watching through splayed fingers as Graves gently uses his thumbs to spread em wide so he can more easily put his internet research to use.

To judge from Avery’s reactions, eating somebody out is easy. The clitoris is  _ definitely _ not hard to find, that’s for sure. Avery’s muscles strain, eir breathing goes ragged, and ey makes these wonderful keening sounds when Graves gets pressure and location just right. Avery tastes light and clean and Graves’s tongue slides easily over eir wet folds. He’s not disappointed when it becomes clear that he’s probably not going to make Avery come just with his mouth. Making em sweat and cry out and contort is more than enough for a first try. There will be ample time to hone these skills.   


For now, he adds something he’s actually good at: fingering. It may be a new kind of hole, and he has to feel out Avery’s sweet spots rather than just locating the prostate and going from there, but Graves’s fingers are long and skilled and he does not care how much of a mess Avery’s arousal makes of his face.

Soon, Avery’s hands are grasping futilly at the arm of the couch behind eir head, eir legs are shaking, eir eyes are screwed shut, and half of what comes out of eir mouth is profanity and the other half is “Graves.” Graves takes time to admire his paramore in the throes of pleasure. Everything about em in this moment is artless, desperate, delicious. To think he worried about this.

He knows the instant Avery starts to come. Ey tightens around Graves’s pushing, probing, stroking fingers until eir body can hold no more tension and Avery makes a fist in Graves’s hair, lets out one last, surprisingly soft moan, and finally sinks under shining waves of pleasure.    


They rest together with Graves’s head on Avery’s thigh and Avery’s fingers now more gently coiling around his hair and ears. Graves had expected the moment of peace to stretch long and lazy before them, for the uncomfortable tightness in his pants to settle soon enough, maybe for Avery to doze, soft, naked, and spent. Later, they’d both stretch and Graves would propose dinner plans. From there, he’d see where the night took them.   


He should have accounted for Avery’s youthful tenacity. It’s not five minutes before the fingers drifting gently over Graves’s skin become determinedly caressing, nor before Avery is kissing him again, more slowly, eir hands roving over his body with boldness that nearly makes up for his being clothed and Avery still naked. Shoulders, chest, thighs, a deliberate survey of his ass--both cheeks. Avery only avoids one part of Graves’s body and Graves is certain it’s no accident, nor a demonstration of shyness: Avery is making it quite clear that it's eir turn. Graves never realized just how much Avery had been holding back when they’d been physical previously and eir audaciousness is enough to embarrass him.    


“Up,” Avery says and Graves is on his feet before he thinks to ask where they’re going. Avery, naked, soft, bold Avery slides off the couch and onto eir knees in front of him, hands reaching immediately for his belt.

Graves doesn’t know what to say. Suddenly, things seem to be happening very quickly. Avery’s hands are small and firm on Graves’s once more painfully-erect dick and Graves has no idea where his own hands should go.

  
The feeling of his cock sliding into Avery’s molten mouth is nearly enough to make him come. He’s wanted this, wanted it so much. Resisting that desire was smart under the circumstances, sure, but now that Avery’s on eir knees in front of him, lips wrapped around him, eyes closed, looking for all the world like ey's really  _ tasting _ him, Graves is nearly reduced to coming in his employee’s mouth with uncouth rapidity.

  
For once, his sense of dignity does him some good and he manages to rest a gentle hand on the back of Avery’s head. “Are you sure?” A superhuman effort, for Avery volunteered.   


Avery  _ pops _ Graves’s dick out of eir mouth with all the suction and ceremony of removing a lollipop. Graves is momentarily relieved: Avery’s insane casualness is far from erotic and Graves was feeling overwhelmed. But then, Avery smiles up at him and it’s the winning, confident, bright-eyed smile Graves fell in love with. “Sure I’m sure,” ey says, downright chipper. Ey's both back at it and serious again before Graves can even formulate a response, eyes immediately falling shut, one hand loosely holding eir hair out the way, and mouth taking Graves’s cock up to the hilt.

  
Graves could try to remember the rules to football as Avery pistons resolutely up and down his shaft. He could try to keep his body under control. There’s no dignity in being a quick shot. But neither is there nobility in resisting pleasure freely offered, especially not by a lover, so Graves splits the difference and focuses on how his hands feel in Avery’s feathery hair, the arch of eir spine, the lovely dimples at the small of eir back he’s seeing for the first time, the strength of eir hands, one at the base of his cock, the other having moved to his ass; the somewhat smaller pleasures of the moment.   


It’s not a heroic effort, but it doesn’t have to be. “I’m going to come,” he tells Avery softly. Avery takes him deep in eir mouth and the rushing sensation of incredible need paired with immediate, burgeoning gratification of that same need overtakes Graves. Avery doesn’t pull away.    


But then ey starts to cough, shattering eir moment of perfect giving. Graves offers the handkerchief from his back pocket and then covertly puts his dick back away, sheepish. Avery coughs into the handkerchief (linen) a couple more times, and looks up at Graves with an unreadable (maybe accusatory?) expression and wet eyes. “Is-is that  _ mocha _ ?”   


Avery has never seen a fully adult man transition so rapidly from pleased to utterly mortified. He pales, then flushes. His eyes drop to Avery’s knees. He doesn’t breathe. Avery starts to prepare to get out eir serious voice, but then Graves moans and sinks heavily onto the couch. He may crave the sweet release of death, but he’s  _ okay _ .    


It’s a full fifteen seconds before Graves can respond, voice muffled by his hands hiding his burning face. “I had completely forgotten.” His tone is strangled. “The natural flavor can be disagreeable, so I….” He can’t finish. He sits, knees apart, fly still undone, unable to explain to his new partner why his cum tastes like a coffee drink. Thank god he had the foresight to put his dick away.    


Avery stares, unbelieving and then moves with easy resolve. Ey could put on the towel, or even Graves’s discarded sweater, but ey’s always been in for a penny, in for a pound. Still naked, ey cuddles up to Graves, arm around his waist, head on his shoulder, one leg tossed over his. “You’re  _ precious _ , you know that?”   


Graves slowly pulls back far enough that he can get a good look at Avery’s earnest, charmed face. His eyes are wide in surprise at first, but then even the ice blue one settles into the warmest, deepest affection Avery has ever seen. “Avery Grey, I think you may never stop surprising me.”


End file.
